"If what, Kerr Kapitan?" asked his subordinate anxiously.
"Nothing," rejoined the other gruffly. "Now, to your post, von Loringhoven. We have a tricky piece of navigation in front of us if we are to arrive off Aberspey by midnight."
Thanks to his intimate knowledge of the coasts of Great Britain, von Preugfeld was able to take the intricate inner passage round St. Rollox Head. He did not expect to find any patrols in that waterway on a foggy night, and his anticipations were well founded. Running awash and at full speed, U 247 literally scraped past the outlying rocks, the thresh of her propellers being deadened by the constant roar of the surf upon the far-flung ledges that thrust themselves seaward from the bold headland. Through a winding channel barely a hundred yards in width, beset with dangers on either hand and swept by furious currents and counter-eddies, the U-boat held steadily onwards, until with a grunt of relief von Preugfeld "handed over" to his subordinate.
"We're through," he observed. "Now keep her south by west at nine knots. Call me in twenty minutes."
At the expiration of the given time the kapitan went on deck and ordered the leadsman to sound. Very slowly the U-boat held on, until through a rift in the fog the look-out sighted a green buoy on the starboard hand.
"That is what I was looking for," remarked von Preugfeld to the unter-leutnant. "It's a wreck-buoy placed there as a monument to our achievement last March. You remember?"
"The Camperdown Castle, Herr Kapitan?"
"No, you fool," snapped the kapitan. "We sank the Camperdown Castle eighty kilometres away to the south-eastward."
"The Columbine, then?"
"That's better," exclaimed von Preugfeld. "That red cross on her port bow made an excellent mark, illuminated by electric light as it was for our convenience. Now, shut off the motors. Call away the guns' crews. Elevate to eight thousand metres, and fire anywhere between west by north and west by south, and I'll warrant we'll make a mess of things ashore in Aberspey."